


Patching Up Wounds. Scolding Fondly.

by bandumpster



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Cliche, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, It's three years after the first movie, M/M, Near Future, they both say "shut up" a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 23:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20882678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bandumpster/pseuds/bandumpster
Summary: Richie gets beat up and goes to the only person he knows can fix him up in the middle of the night.(based on that post/famous trope of fondly patching up someone's bloody wounds in a sort of romantic way)





	Patching Up Wounds. Scolding Fondly.

**Author's Note:**

> It's late so I wasn't sure how to tag/summarize it - it does what it says on the tin, ya'know? I'd honestly write a long fic if I had the time but I just don't nowadays :/

Every shadow in Eddie’s room appeared like a great, tall figure in the dark corners of his field of vision. Every time he closed his eyes, the creeping sensation that someone, something, was going to grab a hold of him grew strong and unyielding. 

He had this some nights. Even though it had gone three years since It went away, since It stopped, he had it some nights. Insomnia, but also a numbing fear that glued him in place in his bed. People joked about it all the time, how if you left your leg outside the comforter a demon would grab it. It wasn’t just jokes for him. 

Frustrated he sat up in his bed, eyes wide open and searching wildly in the dark. His bathrobe looked like a person. His chair like some crouched troll.  
“It’s not real,” he told himself in a silent whisper. His hands were beginning to shake. At any second now, something would jump out, something- 

“AH!” Eddie exclaimed and scrambled backwards when his window suddenly made a noise. Frozen he stared at the glass, but it was quiet. Another sound came, but it was more distant and muffled. Something had hit the wall. Were birds flying into the wall? Was someone climbing the wall and coming for his window?  
“No, it’s every 27 years, it’s a pattern, why would it break the pattern?” His words only did so much. A third noise came, a ringing ‘clonk!’ against the window again, and this time Eddie saw it. A rock had hit his window. Who?

Although he was still petrified, curiosity dragged Eddie slowly out of bed and toward the window. He crouched to the floor, and suddenly the shadows inside his room were not even half as threatening as whatever was outside. Slowly he peered over the windowsill, suddenly wishing he was a snail so he could just peek his elongated eyes over the edge. But alas, he had to use his human eyes.  
“Richie?” he mumbled as he saw the figure down on the street. Yes, that tousled, long hair and those big glasses? It was undeniably him. “_Richie?_” he mumbled again, more questioningly this time. 

Eddie snuck down the stairs. Mother was a heavy sleeper, fortunately, or she would have been after him for creeping around in the middle of the night. His feet were bare, and so were his legs, but his T-shirt covered most of his body anyway. He’d have a growth spurt soon enough, surely. 

Two locks clicked before he creaked the door open. At first he was still unsure, only keeping it open a small crack to get a view of the street. Richie was still standing below his window, looking desperately up and beginning to aim a new rock. Eddie began to notice he looked very strange, but first he had to make sure his window wouldn’t break tonight.  
“Rich! What the hell, asshole?” he hissed, and Richie turned to him and smiled. Weakly, but it was definitely there.

As he came closer, Eddie noticed the strange things. A great, big bruise on his left cheek. His glasses looked a little crooked. Blood on his chin from a gross scrape. His flannel was half pulled off his shoulder. He looked like he’d just run from a fight.  
“Hey,” he croaked.  
“What the hell, asshole?” Eddie repeated, opening the door a little more but taking a step back. Richie looked like he was about to throw up.  
“Um...I, uh-” he continued, pinching the skin between his eyes.  
“What happened to you? It’s the middle of the fucking night,” Eddie informed. Richie gave him a quick glare, but said nothing about how obvious this was.  
“I bumped into Bowers and his gang, you know. They beat the shit out of me. The uze,” Richie said and followed with a cough. “Can I fucking come in?” 

Eddie was too bewildered to argue, and just backed from the door.  
“Please be quiet, mommy’s sleeping,” he whispered.  
“You gotta stop calling your mom ‘mommy’, it’s fucking weird,” Richie whispered back. Eddie slapped him in the arm.  
“Shut the fuck up!” he hissed. Richie threw his hands up in defense. The strike had been a reflex, Eddie was actually feeling pretty bad for Richie. He was starting to look like he might cry. Richie was not the type of guy who cried. Eddie locked the door and turned to him. They stood in silence in the hallway for a hot second, and Eddie waited for Richie to begin explaining. Not that being beat up by Bowers’ gang was strange or needed explaining. But the timing of it, maybe.  
“Why did you come to my house?” Eddie asked.  
“It was closest,” Richie answered effortlessly.  
“Yeah exactly, you live like six blocks from here. Why were you in my neighborhood?” Eddie pressed, getting frustrated at how unresponsive Richie was being.  
“I think I’m gonna pass out,” Richie said and indeed he began to topple over. 

Eddie threw himself forward, only catching Richie around his torso quickly enough to sort of drag him to the couch. He wasn’t passed out, he could tell he was still tense, but his eyes were closed.  
“Thanks,” he mumbled like he wasn’t hearing himself speak. Eddie felt his throat thicken.  
“Are you going to die?” he breathed, eyes beginning to dart around for his inhaler.  
“No, fuckface, I’m not going to die. I just need...I just need to sit for a moment.” Richie’s voice faded out a little and he took his glasses off. Eddie noticed bruises and blood on his knuckles and he winced, almost being able to feel the ache in his own hands. But Richie didn’t look like he had been beat that bad, he was barely bleeding, but still he seemed very dizzy and confused. Was he concussed? Shocked? Traumatized?  
“You fought back?” Eddie questioned.  
“What?” Richie opened his eyes and put his glasses back on.  
“Your hands,” Eddie elaborated.  
“Oh, yeah, that. Um, yeah,” Richie said, casting his gaze to the ground. He looked like he was calming down a little bit, so Eddie cleared his throat.  
“Wait here, I’ll get some...supplies. And then you tell me what happened,” he suggested, unsure if he really wanted to know. 

Eddie hurried to the bathroom, the light flickered on as he scrambled through the cabinets. Bandages and a cloth with water, disinfectant wipes and then the entire first-aid kit. Lastly his inhaler. His heart was not pounding as hard as it did thirty seconds ago, but his hands were beginning to shake instead. Was he going to panic? There was no time for that, Eddie told himself sternly and quickly got back out into the living room. 

“Disinfectant wipes? That’ll fuck it up even more,” Richie moaned when Eddie fumbled through the things.  
“Shut up,” he snapped. Richie grabbed ahold of the bandages but Eddie quickly stopped his hand.  
“We have to clean them first, idiot,” he snarled, holding onto Richie’s hand as he softly struggled to free it. Richie was most likely just going to do the opposite of everything he said just to fuck with him, so he gave Richie the most warning glance he could muster before letting go of his hand. He seemed to submit. “Now sit still.”

Cleaning his wounds created a lump in Eddie’s throat, and his eyes teared at the look of the scrape on his chin. Bruises weren’t so bad, but there the skin was open in places and full of blood and dirt. Eddie felt a little sick to his stomach. Richie’s face screwed up when he rubbed the cloth over it. Seeing him in pain was not as satisfying and funny this time as it usually was.  
“Man up,” Eddie said quietly. Richie opened his eyes and only looked down at him, but said nothing. When Richie said nothing it always made Eddie feel like he’d done something wrong, because Richie always said something. Usually something stupid. “So um, what happened? Why were you out?” Richie was quiet again, to Eddie’s annoyance.  
“I was just walking.” He seemed to realize this was not enough information and sighed. “I couldn’t sleep, alright? I was just thinking and I...wanted to get out of the house,” he followed up and Eddie hesitated, wanting to pry more out of him at first, but then deciding to let it go so he could hear the rest.  
“Okay,” he simply said, implying for Richie to continue.  
“And then I just heard this car swerve behind me and I ran, like a dumbass since they were in a car and I was on foot so...um, they hit me and-”  
“You got _hit by a car?_” Eddie interrupted, eyes widening at Richie. He could see in his face that something was different. Richie had gotten beat up by Henry Bowers before, and it usually just pissed him off. But now his eyes were dark and glazed over, his bruised hands looked cold as they fiddled and his face was pale and he hung his head low. He was sad.  
“Yeah, but it was fine. But anyway, they just jumped out of the car and started yelling, you know, I think...I think- fuck,” Richie’s voice became choked up and Eddie looked up from putting bandages on his chin to see his eyes become full of tears. What the hell was going on? Eddie was so surprised by this that he had to sit back, and he couldn’t get any words out. “Maybe they heard some shitty rumors or something. Whatever,” Richie finished and wiped his eyes before any tears could fall.__

_ __ _

Rumors about what, Eddie thought. That he was a stupid trashmouth who talked a lot of shit? Richie never hid that about himself. He wasn’t the secretive, quiet type. No, Eddie wasn’t an idiot. He knew what kind of rumors were the most dangerous here. 

They were both quiet. A cold stone had landed in Eddie’s stomach. What the hell was he supposed to say? He simply finished cleaning around Richie’s bruised and bloody hands, he had scrapes from falling onto the asphalt.  
“All done,” he whispered eventually. Something still seemed wrong with him, he thought. Of course he was in pain, but Richie’s breaths were heaved and raspy, and his eyes still looked distant and afraid. “Wait, you said you were hit by a car?”  
Richie looked up, his near-innocent-looking eyes magnified by his glasses. “Yeah, but it’s fine,” he defended softly.  
“Are you sure? I can take a look at it-”  
“It’s fine,” Richie reassured with an offended tone to his voice as he tried to stand up, but still had to grab Eddie’s shoulder to support himself. Eddie followed and grabbed a hold of him. Richie’s other arm was around his ribcage.  
“Did you break a rib? Richie, are you breathing okay?” Eddie asked, just barely stumbling over his speeding words.  
“Shut up,” Richie mumbled.

They stood like that for a moment, Eddie trying to find some clue in Richie’s eyes, but he wouldn’t give anything away. He didn’t look as sickly pale anymore, just flushed and a little shaky.  
“Fine, take a look,” Richie finally decided and his lean fingers began nibbling at the edge of his sleeves. His shirt was dark, but as Eddie observed it closer, he noticed uneven, wet patches. It must be blood. Richie was obviously still weak in the knees. Was he that shocked? Shock could be fatal. How was Eddie supposed to figure this out? “Will you help me?” Richie added and fumbled with his glasses, laying them down on the table. He looked so different without them, so much older. His cheekbones and jaw had become very sharp as of late, in fact Richie had become tall fast and therefore also become generally lanky and thin. Eddie swallowed hard, feeling that his throat had suddenly gone thick again.  
“Oh, right, yes,” Eddie agreed without hesitation and grabbed a hold of Richie’s shirt, pulling it slowly and carefully over his head. 

Richie’s torso was far from alright, but it wasn’t as bad as Eddie had begun to imagine (blood everywhere, flesh wounds with broken ribs poking out, the works). One of the bruises was cut open slightly, but the bleeding had already been stopped by his shirt soaking it up, so it was mostly messy. In any other situation Eddie would be throwing up in his mouth right now, but for some reason he just felt...numb. He brushed his fingers over the bruise on Richie’s rib cage absentmindedly, almost like he wasn’t aware at all. When he realized he was doing it he expected Richie to say something annoying, but it was all quiet. He moved his hand away and felt his entire face, nay, his entire body go hot and restless. 

It’s not like he’d never thought about it before. What it would be like. It’s just that this was a very weird time for it. 

“Am I going to die or what?” Richie smiled, and his smile made it feel like it was going to be alright, suddenly.  
“No, you’re not going to die,” Eddie answered with a smile of his own. “But-” he was interrupted by Richie gently resting his hand on his neck, right where it connected to his shoulder. For a brief moment he began feeling everything at once. The urgency of the situation, sure, but also the heat that was radiating off the boy in front of him and the scent of cold sweat, he noticed the red shade that had overtaken Richie’s freckled skin and the way his eyes were almost hidden beneath his hair, but still looking straight at him. Eddie tried his best, but his voice was barely a whisper when he tried again; “-but I’ll clean it and then-”  
“Shut your mouth,” Richie mumbled and suddenly leaned forward, pressing his bare, bruised chest to Eddie. He had to hang his head low to kiss him, but something made Eddie stand up on his toes to meet him halfway. He’d thrown his arms up for protection, but that something made it easy to relax them, to put his hand at Richie’s neck and feel his locks between his fingers. When this thought had ever-so-slightly crossed his mind in the past, the thought of kissing him, it had felt difficult and scary. But everything was quiet, he only had to focus on the sensation of someone’s lips on his own. He’d never felt that before, but it was strange and soft. He tilted his head a little and pressed upward, fingers clinging to Richie’s neck as he kissed him a bit more. They were both drawing quick breaths through their noses, making little swishing noises, and Eddie couldn’t help but hum softly at the warm, slow, gentle intensity. Everything was tingling, like he was being tickled. But he moved to a sort of inaudible beat, feeling a little less stiff as the moment went on and he let Richie push him backward a little bit. Their lips made a parting noise as Richie moved his head back for a second to maybe to grab some air, and Eddie licked his lips instinctively. He managed to catch a glimpse of Richie’s face. He was smiling. That made Eddie smile too, and he pressed his mouth back to his. Now he could tell he was smiling. It wasn’t intrusive and sloppy and awkward like he’d always imagined it’d be to have someone kiss you properly, to kiss a girl. It was slow and easy. Though, when Richie pushed his tongue down toward Eddie’s bottom lip, he didn’t know what it was at first, then pulled away and let go of him. He didn’t mean to. The iron-like taste of blood lingered in his mouth. Not his own blood.  
“I’m sorry,” Richie instantly apologized, his face going from a smile to a frightened expression.  
“It’s fine,” Eddie breathed, despite his heart feeling like it was going to beat out of his chest.  
“Shit, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” Richie’s face gave away his oncoming panic, and Eddie was quick to take it in his hands.  
“I liked it,” he confessed, cheeks burning. There was a pause. Richie looked unbelievably naive. “I like you.”

The dim light in the room was bright enough to reveal Richie’s eyes welling with tears. It was very weird, but Eddie’s belly felt all fluttery and nice at the appearance of it. Richie frowned though and sat down again, wincing a little with pain. Eddie had totally forgotten and eventually sat down next to him. Was it a good idea to kiss him again? Was he going to be mad, since he was crying? Eddie wanted to do it. Maybe just a little? He leaned over and sighed into Richie’s neck, then taking in his scent deeply. Very familiar, and yet very new.  
“Will you do your thing now so I can put my shirt back on? I’m getting kind of insecure,” Richie said with amusement to his tone. Sarcasm, though it probably wasn’t a lie.  
“Right.”

Eddie finished up quickly, cleaning and putting bandage over it with a little bit of tape. The bruising was only swelling and becoming darker. There were a strange beauty to them, but because they were hurting Richie they were ugly and he hated them. 

“Can I sleep here?” Richie sighed, his eyes falling shut. He must be exhausted, Eddie thought.  
“Sure, but my mom will kill you,” Eddie answered with grim honesty.  
“Oh, right, right. I’ll go,” Richie sighed and pushed his hands on his thighs to help him stand, but Eddie grabbed a hold of his hand.  
“Wait-” he wasn’t sure what to say yet. Richie turned to him with curious eyes. He still wasn’t wearing his glasses so he probably couldn’t see much. “She’ll have to kill me first.”  
Richie laughed quietly at this and was soon smiling against Eddie’s mouth again. Feeling it again for the third time, he decided it was the best feeling in the world.


End file.
